I watch Daisy and Ryke man the blender in our stainless steel kitchen. Measuring cups, cupcake trays, sugar and butter are splayed on the countertops.
I’m not wandering around, but I eat chocolate chips out of the bag next to Rose, which I’d like to think helps in some way. I’m taste-testing the food.
It’s edible. Just in case someone out there is wondering.
“I would’ve liked a text message, at least,” Connor says, opening a carton of eggs. He stands closest to Lo on the other side of the bar counter.
Lo leans against the cupboard. He snaps back, “I’ll send you one right now if it makes you feel better.” He doesn’t even add love on the end of it, which he reserves only for me and one of his best friends.
Connor’s eyebrow arches and he stares blankly at him.
I say to Lo, “Baking makes you mean.”
He grips the counter, takes a deep breath, and his narrowed amber eyes flit up to me. “My dad texted me about the meeting.”
The kitchen goes quiet except for the whirling blender.
“And?” I ask, caging a breath.
“And nothing. He just keeps saying he’ll explain in person, but now he’s not even saying when that’ll be.” He straightens up as he exhales again. “It’s annoying as shit.”
Ryke says, “He’s just messing with us. It’s what he fucking does.”
Lo shakes his head again in disagreement. “It’s like he’s scared or something…I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it, honestly.”
Rose points to a photo of peppermint cookies. “Whole Foods sells this exact cookie.”
Lo looks grateful for the digression, even if it’s coming from Rose. My older sister is ready to hop off the barstool, grab her keys and go shopping.
Her shopping skills far outrank her cooking skills.
And I agree, this sounds like a brilliant plan. I perk up. I’m about to call quits on our attempt at baking. I’m known to be lazy, so I have a perfect excuse.
But Connor rips the recipe book out of Rose’s hand and skims the ingredients. “You can make this easily, darling.”
Her yellow-green eyes pierce his forehead. “I don’t cook. The smart thing, Richard, would be to save time and buy all of this.” She gestures to the tray of misshapen gingerbread men （Lo’s）， burnt snickerdoodles （Daisy’s） and perfectly brown oatmeal raisins （Ryke’s）。
“It’s the efficient thing,” Connor says. “But Maria asked for homemade cookies, not store bought ones.” Poppy’s daughter is having some sort of baked goods sale, and my oldest sister enlisted our help.
“Maria also knows that I loathe baking.” Rose stretches over the bar to talk to Connor.
Oh this is good. I eat the chocolate chips like popcorn, my lips rising in entertainment. The nerd stars are sparkling. Lo is watching too, and he joins my side and sticks his hand in the chocolate chip bag.
Connor is practically grinning. “Are you really implying that she’s doing this on purpose?”
“Yes.” Rose pulls back her shoulders like a cat ready to pounce.
Connor grins, full-on now. “She’s six.”
Lo whispers to me, “Burn.”
“Rose has this,” I whisper back. “Watch.” I’m Team Nerd Stars, but if I must choose an allegiance, I will go with my sister, every time.
“All kids are devils in disguise,” Rose retorts, her forearms on the bar, “and apparently I’m the only one who sees them for what they really are.”
“And what is that?”
“Small, tiny gremlins.”
Lo chokes on a chocolate chip. I pat his back and keep eating mine, my eyes widening with delight. This is better than a summer blockbuster.
Rose’s butt rises off the stool as she continues, “The kind that will suck up all of your time and energy, and before you know it, you’re an old hag with nothing but saggy, disgusting cookies.”
“Your hyperboles are nothing new,” he tells her. I think he only likes them when they come from her.
She scoffs. “I speak the truth.”
“If anyone here is a truthteller, it’s me, darling.” He winks.
She glares. “Next time you wink at me, Richard, I’m going to scratch out your eyeball and set it on fire.”
He leans closer to her, their lips a breath apart. “Go ahead and try.”
Her gaze falls to his mouth, the sexual tension heightened, but it doesn’t stir me to bad places. Their intellectual love is always more amusing to me than erotic. “If you’re a truthteller,” she says, “then what does that make me, Richard?”